


Back Home Again

by badcircuit



Series: Things that Never Happened [3]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, in a chat room far, far away, I said I would do a fic about Renner’s makeup artist skills.  Well, here it is.</p><p>Summary:  Renner’s in town for the Indy 500 and you need his makeup expertise.</p><p>This never happened.  My poor beta is under siege by raccoons so this is not beta’d.  Feel free to point out my mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Home Again

In Indianapolis, the month of May is all about The World’s Greatest Spectacle in Racing, the Indy 500.  For you, this May is all about him, in town and in your house, which almost never happens. 

Indy’s pretty laid back, even during race time, so it’s easy to get out to do things when you finally make it out of the bedroom after working off  the many months of built up sexual frustration you’ve been suffering from.  There’s only so much you can take care of with Skype sexing. 

The evening is perfect for dinner on the balcony at Rick’s Café Boatyard, which means a little more than the usual effort to look presentable on your part.  Your preferred jeans and top won’t cut it, and that means hair and makeup too, something you usually stick to the bare minimum with. 

Still in your panties and bra, you watch him in the bathroom mirror, getting ready behind you.  It’s unfair that someone can be as sexy getting into their clothes as they are getting out of them. 

“Frame the face.  Isn’t that what you said once?” you ask, glancing back and catching him ogling your ass.

“Busted,” he says with a chuckle but he takes his time looking up.  “Did I say that?”

“Yeah, you said something like ‘frame the face: eyebrows, eyes, lips’.”

“I say a lot of crazy shit when I’m running low on naps.  What about it?”

“I want you to do me.”

His fingers go still on the knot of his tie and he gives you a “say what now” look.  And then he comes up behind you, pressing his body into yours, caging you in with his hands on the counter near your hips.  Your eyes meet in the mirror as he speaks close to your ear.  “I thought I did.  Repeatedly.”

“Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Or backed into it,” he says, poking you with his hard-on.

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, blushing.  “You know what I mean.”

He smiles, turning you around and lifting you onto the counter.  “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”   Wedging himself between your thighs, he tips your chin up and traces your eyebrows and lips.  “I’m pretty rusty.  I might make you look like a clown.”

Impossible because your colors are all fairly neutral and you never wear foundation.  “You can’t mess this up.”  Reaching behind you, you hand him the tube of eye shadow primer.  “Just humor me.  Pretty please.” 

He squints at the tube and sighs like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever asked him to do.  “How can I say no when you ask like that?  Ok, close your eyes.”

You do, waiting for him to begin.  He touches your chin and you tilt your head back a little more, eyelids fluttering as you try to keep them closed. 

“You’re gonna owe me for this,” he says, finger-combing your hair back off your face.

“And you know how good I am at paying you back.”  You squeeze his hips with your thighs and get an amused hmph in return.

You feel the heat of his hand before the actual touch of his finger on your lid.  He applies the primer—pat-pat-pat—first on the left side and then the right.  You flick your tongue out for a quick taste of his palm: salt, soap and remnants of you.  It startles a chuckle out of him and makes him drop the tube. 

“Do you want me to do this or not?  Because if you keep that up, we’re not even gonna make it to dinner.”

“Ok, ok.  I’ll be good,” you say, laughing.

He makes a face at your dirty double talk, trying not to crack a smile.  “Seriously?”

“Alright, I’ll stop.”  You close your eyes and give him your face again.  The little plastic cosmetic containers next to you on the counter click together as he sorts through them to find what he wants next.  There’s a brief pause and then the soft tickle of the shadow brush.  Next comes the coolness of the liquid eyeliner and the warmth of his breath on your face as he leans in close for precision.    

When he’s done with both eyes, you feel him move back a little.  “Let me see.”  He studies both eyes, closed and open, and makes a satisfied sound then curls your lashes, sweeps on some mascara and tidies your brows.  He switches out of laser focus mode and steps back, stroking the scruff on his chin.  “Not bad.”

“Well, look what you have to work with,” you say, fluttering your perfectly done eyelashes.

He sighs like he doesn’t know what to do with you and reaches for the lip liner.  “Yeah, you’re alright, I guess.” 

He holds your chin between his forefinger and thumb while he traces the outline of your mouth, starting with the bow of your upper lip and working outward on each side before gliding the pencil along the curve of your bottom lip.  He flips the top off the lip color pen with his thumb and dials it up one-handed then carefully smoothes on a coat of Stila’s _In the Nude_ , gently tugging your mouth open a little to fill everything in.

You take the opportunity to watch him, looking at you but not _at_ you, completely absorbed with what he’s doing.  His lips are pursed and his forehead is crinkled with concentration, and every now and then he squints one eye and tilts his head to one side while he examines his work.  You see the exact moment when his attention starts to wander—as soon as he touches the pen to your lips, his pupils blow wide and he inhales and exhales deeply through his nose.  The question is what is he going to do now?

“All done,” he announces, straightening up and setting the pen down.  He snaps his fingers.  “Oh wait, one more thing.  Gotta blot your lipstick.  Like this.”  He demonstrates by sticking his index finger between his puckered lips and drawing it out slowly.

 _Well fuck._   “What’s wrong with Kleenex?” you say, squirming a little.

“This is how I do it.”  His eyes take on that gleam, the one that means it’s on.

“That’s how you did it with a bunch of random chicks?”

“You asked me to do you,” he smirks, stressing the ‘do you’ and ignoring your question.  “Are you going to open your mouth or not?”

Staring into his eyes, you open up, leaning forward and taking his finger in and sucking it before he can pull it out, even catching the tip between your teeth so you can lash it with your tongue.

“You’re a troublemaker.” he grumbles, shaking his head.  His hands are on his belt buckle, undoing it.  “We’re gonna be late and it’s all your fault.”

For a minute, you think he might spank you—something you have no problem with—but instead he lifts you off the counter and glares down at you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“You can’t mess up my lips,” you sputter, now thinking you’re about to end up on your knees—also something that’s perfectly fine.  “I haven’t even seen how it looks yet.”

“Ok, you can see.”  He spins you around and bends you over the counter, yanks your panties down and enters you on one hard thrust.

Your lips do look amazing, forming a perfect O as he slams into you hard and fast.  Your eyes look great too, especially all glazed over with pleasure.  Your gazes meet in the mirror and he nods, a dirty smile on his face.

“You like it?” he asks, fucking you with his eyes as surely as he is with his cock.

“I love it,” you say, bracing your hands against the mirror and throwing your ass back at him. 

Gripping your hip with one hand, he slides the other between your legs and touches you exactly how you need to be touched.  You know he’s getting close by the way his hold on you is tightening and the way his eyelids are starting to droop and _oh God_ , you’re almost there.  You look at yourself in the mirror, jolting forward with every snap of his hips, and then at him and he’s looking down between you, _watching_.  He sucks in a breath and lets it out on a slow _oooooooh_ and you go over, choking back a scream.  He finishes right behind you, leaning over and kissing you gently on the nape of your neck.

He straightens himself out while you get dressed, looking perfectly composed except for a few stray hairs that have fallen forward.  He picks up the lip pen and fixes what you chewed off during your quickie, smiling down at you.

“We’ll mess this up again later.”


End file.
